Don’t Call Me Sweetheart (15 page)

“When do you need to leave?” she asked Stephan. Genuine concern
over his family emergency masked the underlying feelings of apprehension
gripping her.

“I need to catch a flight out of Tacoma by two o’clock so I
need to swing by home and pack a few things,” Stephan answered, sliding his
hands up into Whitney’s dark mass of hair. It would be hard to leave her, even
for such a short time.

“I’ll drive you,” Whitney told him impulsively, wanting to
make sure that Stephan made it out of town before running into Christian. “Just
give me a moment to call Hannah and tell her I’ve changed my plans and we can
be on our way, okay?”

“Well, it would be nice not to have to leave my car at the
airport all that time. And it means I’ll get to see you the minute I get back
since someone’s going to have to pick me up,” Stephan said as he pulled her
chair around to face him.

Whitney laughed. “Of course I’ll come and get you. I can’t
leave a handsome thing like you sitting in an airport waiting room alone, all
lonely and defenseless against those beautiful, single stewardesses, now could
I?”

Taking her teasing as encouragement Stephan leaned forward
and kissed her, a gentle promise that his feelings would never change so
easily. The pressure of the kiss melted away as soon as Stephan’s lips left
hers and Whitney was left longing for more. Longing for stormy kisses from a
black-eyed devil who could send her senses reeling. She was saved from
remembering more when Stephan reached for her coat and courteously held it for
her as she slipped her arms into the sleeves.

“Come on then, hon. If I’m going to catch that plane we’d
best get moving.” He smiled easily, the corners of his warm, cerulean eyes
crinkling as he did so. Whitney smiled back, dreaming of the day when Christian
would be out of her life forever and she could come to this man unhampered and
ready to love him and only him.

As she prepared to follow Stephan’s car around the corner
Whitney glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a familiar black Bronco pulling
into the parking space she had just vacated.

Whitney worried the secretary might tell Christian where
Stephan had gone and they would be intercepted before they could leave town. Her
worries were groundless however, because in the next few minutes Christian was
informed that Stephan would be out-of-town for a short period of time but had
plans to contact him upon his arrival. Since Christian was back in Reflection
Ridge he could certainly expect a call. Emerging from the office, Christian
thrust his hands into the pockets of his heavy sheepskin jacket and began to
walk the streets he had grown up on, looking for an answer to the dilemma
facing him.

He wanted his life back, his property, his livelihood. The
trouble was, he also wanted Whitney Lane so badly he could taste it. The
thought of her gorgeous body pressed intimately along his as she had slept, her
firm little bottom tucked tightly against his hips, her full, ripe breasts
beneath his hand as he shamelessly caressed them while she slumbered… She was
enough to make a man lose his mind. One thing was certain, she was as distracting
as hell.

And the change in her personality. Who would have guessed
that beneath the shy, prim exterior of the woman he had met in New York there
beat the heart of a wanton tigress. He loved the way her body responded so
passionately to each touch, each caress, more than any other woman he had
known. She made him abandon his good intentions with one look from her
guileless green eyes. He needed her out of his life as badly as he needed her
in his bed.

But she had said that she wouldn’t give herself to any man
other than her husband, hadn’t she? Lord, those shackles would almost be worth
the price. Suddenly an idea came to him and Christian stopped walking long
enough to allow the concept to take shape. If he were to convince Whitney to
marry him, half of the ownership in the inn would revert back to him as a
matter of joint ownership. And by keeping the relationship celibate until after
the fifteenth he would be able to have the marriage annulled, eliminating her
ability to say he had not reclaimed his property by the agreed upon date. It
would then be up to a district judge to decide ownership of the property after
the annulment proceedings, whether it should belong wholly to the heir and
lifelong resident, or to the outsider whose interest equaled a single year.

He knew it was a weak straw but he’d grasp anything to save
his home. He didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of convincing Whitney to
let him bankroll the amount he was short. She would use that information as the
impetus she needed to force him out of his home forever. And there wasn’t time
to sweet-talk her, not with less than three weeks remaining until the deadline.
She’d never believe that he was capable of such a dramatic change of heart, not
after the things he had said and done.

The way he saw it there was only one flaw to the plan and it
could prove to be the weak link that would seal his doom. Everything hinged on
his ability to keep the marriage an abstinent coexistence. He wasn’t sure he
could muster the level of self-control that would be required once he convinced
Whitney to go through with the plan.

And there was another problem. How to insure that the only
answer she could give was yes. She had nothing to lose by refusing him, did
she? Or did she? It seemed she was hell-bent on saving her precious reputation.
For whom? The thought that she cared for another man twisted his gut but he
couldn’t afford to care. Everything he held dear was on the line now. A plan
for forcing her hand began to emerge at the same time the cold forced him to
return to the truck.

As he drove home, Christian formulated the words that would
be necessary to put his last chance effort into place. For him to have the
advantage when they went to court it had to appear to be Whitney’s fault the
marriage had remained unconsummated and by damn, he would make sure it was!

“But you love her!”

Well, sometimes in this life you just don’t get everything
you want.

* * * * *

With a sense of relief Whitney returned to the inn after
seeing Stephan safely boarded on the plane in Tacoma. Luckily they had avoided
Christian and the disastrous situation that would have ensued if they hadn’t.

As the miles slipped past, Whitney used the time to sort out
the implications of her mistake. She still couldn’t believe she had committed
such a horrible error. If Christian found out, she would be at his mercy, an
attribute she seriously doubted he possessed in any great quantity. There had
to be a way out of this. Relaxing her grip on the steering wheel, Whitney
forced herself to concentrate on her options.

The way she saw it she had three choices, none of which
seemed particularly promising. She could confess to Stephan and Christian that
she was also Lane McLaughlin and hope that Stephan could prove that the sale
was still legally binding. Or, she could explain the situation to Christian as
she had to Stephan and hope that there was a small spark of decency within him
that would prompt him to allow the mistake to be corrected honorably before
they sat down to negotiate the terms of the agreement on the upcoming
anniversary. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t convince herself that
he would need long to think that one over.

Or finally, Whitney thought disparagingly, she could leave. Let
Christian have back the peaceful haven that had brought her so much happiness
and hope. Let him retain possession of his property, knowing that to him that
was probably all it was. Just property, a commodity to be bargained with. It
couldn’t possibly mean to him what it had come to mean to her. “This place has
changed my life completely,” Whitney thought to herself. How could she let it
go without a fight? Wasn’t that the legacy she drew from these mountains? Hadn’t
she found the ability to stand up for herself in the months she had been here,
to fend off those who sought to hurt her rather than run away, cowering, when
trouble came looking for her?

She had two weeks to figure out a solution, didn’t she? Two
weeks to discover a way she could avoid giving into Christian and his
unreasonable demands. And who knew? Perhaps an answer to the bleak picture
would come to her today, or tomorrow. She had to recognize opportunity when she
saw it and act accordingly. And she would. Her peace of mind depended on it.

Christian was waiting for her when she returned. Thin
afternoon shadows filtered into the sitting room where he was brazenly
stretched out on the couch. As Whitney came through the door and caught sight
of him he sat up and let his forearms rest on his knees while he regarded her
with bold, black eyes.
The test of endurance begins,
he thought grimly to
himself, taking in the sight Whitney presented, her cheeks flushed with cold
and her brilliant green eyes frosted over likewise.

“Why are you still here?” Whitney demanded without
preliminaries.

“Is that any way to greet me after we’ve been so close?” Christian
countered lazily, emphasizing the word close and grinning as he watched for her
reaction. It was immediately forthcoming.

“Get out! Get out! Get out!” Whitney screamed. “I’ve had
enough of your insinuations and your pawing at me! And I’ve especially had
enough of seeing your face everywhere I look!”

“If I recall correctly, it wasn’t my face you were looking
at this morning, sweetheart.”

She blushed despite her anger, hating the way he had of making
endearments sound anything but loving.

“Did you have something important you wanted to say, or were
you just bored and decided it would be fun to torment me a little before
supper?” she answered scathingly, refusing to move away from the open doorway.

“I do. But now that you mention it, the idea of working up
an appetite with you doesn’t sound half bad.” At the stabbing glare he received
for his comment he sat back, making himself more comfortable and inferring he
had absolutely no intention of making use of the door Whitney stubbornly held
open for him.

“No? Well, then let’s get down to business. Sit down.” His
deep voice suddenly turned deathly serious and Whitney suddenly had a feeling
of impending trepidation as she slowly closed the door and sank into the
nearest chair. He couldn’t already know, could he?

“What are you talking about now, Christian?” she risked
asking.

“I think I’ve found a solution to our little problem.” He
offered her conspiratorial smile before continuing. Whitney’s heart raced as
she waited for him to announce that he knew the sale was nullified but instead
he surprised her by saying, “Obviously neither of us has any intention of
leaving Mountain Meadow Inn without a fight, correct?”

Whitney regarded him suspiciously, wondering where this was
leading.

“If we could find a way to coexist amicably would you be
agreeable to sharing the inn?”

She almost laughed. He didn’t know, in fact, he didn’t even
have the means to meet the terms of the agreement or he wouldn’t be suggesting
a truce. So why would she consider living with him under the same roof? Why
force herself to actually see him day in and day out, always knowing that she
could never have what her heart desired? The thought didn’t merit
consideration. Whitney wanted a solution that saw to it that he was out of her
life for good but her curiosity was piqued just enough that she raised one
finely sculpted eyebrow encouraging him to continue outlining what he
considered an answer to the perplexing puzzle they were trapped in, feeling
confident that she might actually walk away from this situation and retain the
upper hand.

In the next moment she blanched as Christian’s rapier glance
cornered her and his words stung her senses. “I want you to marry me.”

Whitney gasped at the blatant declaration and she realized
she was gripping the arms of the chair so hard her knuckles had turned white. Never
in her wildest imagination would she have expected a proposal from him. Why? Why
would he ask such a thing, what could it accomplish? Before she could open her
mouth to ask he supplied the answer.

“I want this house back, pure and simple. But I’m short twenty
thousand dollars of the price.” Christian’s features were grim and determined. Cold,
actually.

But Whitney’s heart leapt at his words. She had been right
and if he didn’t have the money she was under no obligation to sell to him. Her
happiness was short-lived.

“We both know that you want this house too but more
importantly, you want—or is it you need—me to stop reminding you of the
weakness you suffer whenever we’re…together. Am I right?” Put so bluntly
Whitney found the observation quite crude and started to say so before she was
cut off.

“If you agree to this marriage I promise never again to take
anything from you against your will.”

“Why in the world would I even consider such a ludicrous
suggestion? I don’t need to marry you to get what I want. You’re the last man
in the world I would ever consider marrying. If you don’t have the money, then
you can start packing right now!” Whitney blazed at him, finally finding her
voice.

“I think you’ll find that giving me half interest in this
place by marrying me will vastly preferable to the alternative, love,” Christian
answered her in a low compelling voice as he leaned her direction, his piercing
black eyes trained on her face.

“The alternative? Which would be?” Whitney breathed the
question, trying to tear her eyes away from the hypnotic black pools holding
hers prisoner.

The seductive timbre of Christian’s voice set her nerves on
fire. He had cloaked himself in steely determination up to this point but now
it fell away to be replaced by a sensuous purposefulness that fanned Whitney’s
sleeping passions.

“If you don’t agree I’ll find my way into your bed tonight
and every night until you agree to give me what I want. I’ll remind you in a
hundred different ways that while you may hate me I can make your body love the
things I do to it.” Pressing his advantage, knowing that he had to leave no
doubt of his sincerity in order to force her hand, Christian continued to
describe what she could expect should she refuse.

“You’ll beg me to take you. I’ll make you beg me to never
leave you. You know that I can, don’t you, Whitney. Ahhh…you don’t have to
answer, I can see it reflected in your eyes. You want me to make sweet love to
you, over and over, don’t you? You want to feel me possess you, body and soul,
feel my hands against your beautiful breasts, my hardness throbbing inside you.
I’ll do all those things and more, if you don’t agree to my offer.”

Mesmerized and frightened by the truth he spoke Whitney
could barely whisper, “If that’s the alternative, what would happen if I did
agree?”

“We would be married and share the running of this place.”

“And the…other?”

Christian laughed harshly, knowing he had already won. “I’d
never force myself on you again. Is that what you want to hear?”

Was he really so desperate that he would sacrifice himself
to an empty marriage to get the inn back? She had thought he didn’t care. Why
else would he have sold it in the first place? Did it mean enough to her to
subject herself to an unfeeling marriage, to give up her hopes of finding
happiness with Stephan and building a life with him? Dear, sweet, wonderful,
Stephan, she thought sadly. He would be devastated if she went through with
this but what choice did she have? If she refused, she could expect to be
betrayed by her own worst enemy, those damned desires that Christian had so
artfully awakened, as she knew that Christian would undoubtedly make good on
his promise to steal into her bedroom and strip her of all dignity. He already
had proved he could do just that, hadn’t he? And she had in turn nearly
surrendered to his skills more times than she cared to remember. How much
longer could she expect to keep him away, unless he did so of his own accord?

By marrying him she assured herself that he would keep his
distance and she would keep part ownership of her dear home. But the cost was
high, her perfect life with Stephan for the peace of mind she had found on this
mountain. The mountain had given her strength and courage. Here she had found
her true self and a sense of well-being she had never known before. She couldn’t
let that slip away from her.

He didn’t want her money. Perhaps he had at first, but not
now. Now controlling her seemed to be his goal. She’d escaped one controlling
man, she wasn’t about to fall into the clutches of another. He clearly didn’t
love her, nor realize her true feelings for him. And if he did? Would that make
a difference? She was unprepared to answer that particular question, and
thankfully would never have to. The chances their relationship would grow into
anything beyond mutually antagonistic were minute at best.

Opportunity. She had told herself that she had to grab it in
whatever form it appeared. Realization that it had just been handed to her set
in. In two weeks Christian would realize that this little partnership was completely
unnecessary, that he could have it all. Without her. And if she said no and
took her chances that Stephan could figure out a solution to the problem she
had been promised those same weeks would be filled with nights of passion that
she would never have the strength to resist.

She had questions that demanded answers if she didn’t want
to lose the inn. And if she were honest with herself, she needed the inn much
more than she needed Stephan and the dream of a life with him. Being alone
became easier with each passing year. Life married to Christian would provide
the perfect buffer to the one she currently spent living alone. Free to write
her books. Free of worrying she was being used. Free of hurt.

A marriage to Christian, while not perfect, could ultimately
work to her advantage.

“How could you possibly be happy living celibate?” she
demanded, anger pushing away her fear for the moment.

“Who said I would? I just wouldn’t turn to you when I felt
the urge to ease my needs.” Christian’s devilish grin told her he probably
would do just that too. Hot tears burned her eyes as she pictured him loving
another woman.

“What about decisions that would be required to operate the
inn?” She hastily changed the subject to avoid the chance he would see how
upset she was.

“We’d handle them like any business partners would,” he
replied coolly, “by putting the best interest of the business first.”

“Why should I believe you won’t argue with every little
decision I make? You’ll debate the color of paint I want for the upstairs
bathrooms when we remodel, and which wines we offer on the wine list, and what
to buy the Walstens for Christmas.”

“And you’ll reject the furniture I like, and the way I trim
the trees, and when I refuse to serve quiche on the menu. So?”

“So?” she asked. “So, we need a system for deciding
important matters. Something more efficient than two-hour bicker sessions.”

He gazed steadily at her. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

“Can you be serious for a change?”

“Weekly meetings at the dining room table while the Walstens
are working and can referee if needed?”

“That’ll do,” Whitney agreed. “We’ll try it to start at
least. Try not to mess it up, okay?”

She leveled an uncompromising look his direction. “You’ll
sign a prenuptial agreement of course. You may own the inn again, but that
doesn’t entitle you to half of what’s mine before we enter into this farce.”

“Of course. Sweetheart.”

Seething, Whitney stood up and turned her back to Christian
before asking one final, critical question. “Last one. Where do you plan to
live?”

Again the harsh laugh. “I’ll defer to you, sweet thing and
take a suite on the other side of the house. We don’t want to have scheduling
problems, do we? Something that’s bound to happen if we were to share a bed.”

“I won’t be sharing my bed, sir!”

“Remind me to ask you if you’ve been able to keep that
promise five years from now,” Christian jeered, knowing that in much less time than
that he would be rid of her untrustworthy nature. Somehow the thought was a
hollow victory.

Rising, Christian followed Whitney, stopping a scant inch
behind her and sliding his arms around her waist. He pulled her against him. “What’s
it going to be?” he murmured into her ear, nibbling at the sensitive flesh. “Will
you be my wife and business partner, or my lover?”

It was impossible to think with his lips and tongue paying
sweet homage to her neck and earlobe. Still, Whitney managed one last attempt
to extricate herself from the situation. “I don’t believe you’d go through with
it. You grew up here, you know how people will talk if we don’t share a bedroom
and spend every waking moment sounding as if we hated one another.”

“I’m counting on how people will talk, Whitney,” he answered
softly as he splayed his hands possessively down the front of her hips,
pressing her bottom even tighter against him. But if you behave yourself I’ll
promise to be discreet.”

Whitney gasped at his intimate touch and broke free. What
choice did she really have unless she was willing to leave? And she wasn’t. She
couldn’t. She would be leaving too much of herself behind if she did. Whirling
she cried, “Yes then! Yes, I’ll marry you! Just keep away from me, do you
understand?” Her voice was tinged with the wild, scared emotions racing through
her veins.

Christian smiled to himself, well satisfied that Whitney
would see to it that the next three weeks remained as quiet as the hallways of
a convent. True to his word he moved his things into another suite that night.

The next day they drove to Tacoma and applied for a marriage
license. By the following week, they found themselves standing before the
county magistrate where they were pronounced man and wife. At that moment,
Christian knew and savored the taste of reclaiming his destiny, while Whitney
feared her fate would never again be her own to decide.